Fate
by spilling off the canvas
Summary: No Krypton, no superpowers. Clark Kent is the average teenager, moving to Metropolis after his father dies. Things never change for him. At least, not until he meets the mysterious Lois Lane.
1. Chapter 1

Fate

Chapter One:

It was always nerve-wracking, starting at a new place. And if any place was the epitome of intimidating, it was Metropolis High. Clark Kent walked down the busy hallway, managing to bump into every single person that passed him. He waved to a few of them, saying "Hi" in a voice that still had a hint of puberty's great affect in it, but stopped after they all just ignored him. It seemed that all the students here had gotten the memo that Clark Kent was a person to disregard.

Clark didn't in particularly miss Smallville. It was a town worthy of its name, tiny in size and variety. The population alone was only six hundred and thirty-three, less than twenty-five percent of them being high school age. And out of them, Clark had never been able to find someone to at least call an acquaintance. There were two groups at Smallville's high school: jocks who were conceited and wanted nothing to do with him, and those who were too scared to stand up to the jocks, so they ignored Clark, too. Whatever he had ever done to deserve such a fate, Clark would never know.

Moving to Metropolis had seemed like a second chance for him. Martha, his mother, had decided to move here after his father died from cardiac arrest to look for a job in the city. They moved in a tiny apartment hardly able to be called a room, but it was worth it, to live here. The buildings either came in tall or taller, so much different from the flat, rolling farms of his hometown. Finally, Clark could change his short-lived, pathetic life into something greater. He imagined himself walking in school and adored by those around him, everyone begging to be his friend. Of course, he was modest, and would refuse the compliments and gifts from those in awe of his magnificence.

All his daydreams had been dashed when he arrived his first day. You could change the setting, but you couldn't change the character. Clark was still the same bumbling, geeky guy that he'd been in Smallville. Did he really expect people to fall at his feet? He supposed he didn't, at least not the whole worshiping thing. That was a little dramatic.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he collided with a punk-looking girl, shrinking back as she sneered at him. One thing he could say that met his expectations: Metropolis was _huge. _There had to be at least eight hundred kids here, much more than the whole city of Smallville. It was an interesting experience studying all the different cliques that Clark had missed out on. Very interesting.

The bell rang at 7:30; it was 7:23 now. Clark hastened to find his locker, number one-twenty-one, and quickly twirled the combination on his lock. It gave a satisfying click, and he pulled the books and pencils he needed for his first class of Algebra II.

On right of him, a tall, thin girl rushed up and pulled her own locker open. He couldn't see past the lead, locker door, but even from the back of her head, Clark knew she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Her hair was black as ink, curling into wavy locks that floated gently to the middle of her back. Peering around the door, he saw her digging through her locker, searching for something.

The girl saw him out the corner of her eye. She turned her whole face to him—it was as lovely as he thought. Great, inquisitive brown eyes bore into him. He could see a million questions churning inside them.

"Are you staring at me?" she asked bluntly.

"Um, well, I was looking at you. I didn't mean to stare." Clark turned his eyes to the floor, no longer able to look at her.

"Well, whether you meant to or not, it was still staring. But I suppose I can forgive you," she paused, taking a long, speculative look at him. "What's your name?"

"Clark Kent," he stuttered, "I just moved here."

"Oh, I would've never guessed," she sighed, already moving on to another thought. The raven-haired girl slammed her locker and walked away, parting through the crowd like she was a goddess.

For some reason, Clark couldn't let her walk away, not without at least knowing her name. He went after her, knocking into nearly every student possible and giving at least a thousand apologies. The girl was already many feet away, completely oblivious that he was trying to catch up with her. With a shove, he pushed through the mass, and jogged after her into a smaller, less-crowded hall.

He raised his hand, as if that would get her attention. "Hey! Hey wait!"

Thankfully, the girl turned around, glancing around for the person who'd called her. Out of breath, he ran up to her, leaning on his knees for support. "Wait."

She looked at him in surprise. "Ah, hey, um—,"

"Clark," he heaved, "You—you never told me your name."

The girl blushed, like roses against ivory. "Oh! My name. I'm Lois, Lois Lane."

He lifted one of his hands from his knees and held it out to her. "It's nice to meet you, Lois."

Lois shook it, albeit hesitantly; her hand was smooth and tiny inside of his, almost fragile. When she quickly let go, Clark dropped his arms to his side, wondering what to say in the Awkward Silence.

Lois began to back away, clutching her books to her chest. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but, I've kind of got to go."

"What class do you have?" he asked hopefully.

"Mr. Reeve—World History," she said. Clark's heart sank.

"Oh, well, I have Algebra, so,"

"Yeah." Lois smiled, little dimples crinkling on the edges of both her cheeks. It made her look shy and innocent, a creature that didn't quite belong to this world. And like that, she walked away, not even a goodbye given. Clark stood there, dumbfounded, and stared at the ghost of her presence.

"I guess I'll see you around," he said to the empty air. Just then, the bell rang. Scrambling to find his class, Clark searched through the hall and walked into the room, not having a moment to spare.

The first twenty minutes of class were spent thinking about Lois. She was by far the most beguiling girl he'd ever met. Clark liked that word—beguiling. It seemed to infer both how fascinated and confused he was by her at the same time. She was like one of the puzzle boxes he used to try to solve as a kid: a thousand possibilities, but only one solution. And the greatest mystery of all that was she had actually _talked _with him, like he was an actual person instead of the measly speck kids usually viewed him as. Clark would've been content to try and decipher the conundrum all day, but when his math teacher asked him a question he had no idea how to answer, he admitted to himself he should probably try to focus on the class instead. He sat and listened dutifully to mostly everything that Mr. Simmers said.

The rest of the day was much of the same. Nothing extraordinary occurred (unless you wanted to count the cafeteria's cole slaw that could very well be radioactive; Clark felt sick just looking at it), no one gave a hoot of a care for him, and he never saw Lois again. Fate, like always, kept its cruel and unusual relationship with him and refused to let anything good happen to Clark. _So much for a new start. _Maybe it was too much to imagine that for once he could fit in at school. It wasn't like he was a superhero. Now that he thought about it, though, most superheroes weren't liked very much in their secret identities anyway, so that wouldn't have really helped.

It seemed a miracle when the release bell finally rang. A flood of students came through the halls, only making it more difficult for people like Clark to get by. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had been moving backwards instead of in the right direction. Suddenly, the lack of balance threw Clark off, and he tumbled into the person standing behind him.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he cried, turning to face whoever he had fallen on, "It was an accident, I—,"

To his utter shock, it was Lois Lane, in all her ethereal beauty. Her lips pushed into a smile as she helped him to his feet. "You swear, I know. That's what they all say."

Clark brushed off his t-shirt, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Gee, I really am sorry, Lois."

She laughed, a peal of bells. "Don't be. It's called sarcasm, Kent. Most of the world speaks it."

The hallways had thinned significantly now, only a few kids stranded here and there. Lois and Clark walked slowly through it, speaking in voices that echoed through the empty space.

"So," Lois continued, "How was your first day of school?" She bent her head down, peaking up with her eyes in a way that was unbearably cute.

He blushed again. "Oh, well, it was a first day, I suppose."

"Ha! Fair explanation, Kent. I'd like to say that all the other days are better than the first, but they're not."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be so bad," Clark lied, "You don't seem to have much trouble."

Lois rolled her eyes in a cynical, sardonic way that was very natural for her. "Yeah, that's because I stay out of it. More of a third-person, objective kind of view."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"I work for the school newspaper," she said proudly, "I get to see all the trouble, while maintaining a completely clean record at the same time."

"Bravo," said Clark, "If only we all could be so fortunate."

It was quiet for a moment, both of them thinking of what to say. Lois stared pensively; biting her lip as she contemplated whatever thoughts it was that occupied her head.

"You know, Mr. White is looking for another reporter on staff. You could come by and talk to him about joining the paper, if you wanted," she said.

"Me? Write on the paper?" Clark said in an incredulous tone, "I don't think I could do it."

"Sure you can. It's just as easy as following a recipe. All you do is write what you see around you, as long as you do it in a way that people would want to read, of course."

"I don't know. Don't you have to be aggressive to be a good reporter?" he asked.

"Well, it certainly does help," Lois, said, then after consideration, "but it doesn't mean that you still can't be great. All you need to be a good reporter is to tell the world like it really is, and I think you can do that."

Clark's heart beat in irregular rhythms. "You really think so?"

"Of course!" she said quickly. "Look—here's the Office. That's what we call the classroom the staff works in." She led him in through a shuttered door that said in bold letters: **Metropolis High School Newspaper.**

"Not a catchy name, I know. We're in the works of creating a new one," Lois said.

Clark would've answered, but it was so noisy inside the Office, he doubted she would've heard him. There were about twenty to twenty-five students, all typing furiously on square computers, some even working on ancient typewriters that had dust covering the keys. Every click and word was loud and distinct in his ears; he was feeling claustrophobic already. Lois seemed at home, though, speaking to the writers and issuing commands like it was nothing.

"Smile!" a cheery voice said. Clark spun around, and was blinded by the flash of an old camera—the kind that could literally make it impossible to see for a period of time. He took off his glass and rubbed at his eyes, trying to make the lights go away.

"Ah, sorry about that," the voice said. Clark replaced his glasses and saw a curly-headed boy with a bowtie on his button-up shirt. He had one of those infectious smiles that somehow could make anyone want to smile, too. In his hand, there was a large camera strapped around his neck.

He noticed Clark looking at it. "Yeah, it's a little outdated. My uncle gave it to me when he was going through all the junk in his house. Actually, he had a lot of cool stuff," he caught himself from his train of thought and remembered Clark, "My name's Jimmy Olsen."

Clark shook his hand and smiled. "Clark Kent."

Jimmy gave his natural smile, and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent! Did you come here to ask for that open position?"

"Yeah, actually, I came here with Lois—" he turned to where she was, but there was nothing but the empty water stand. "Lois?" Clark called.

"Ah, Lois," said Jimmy, pulling on the straps of his camera, "Here one moment, and gone the next."

_You've got that right, _Clark wanted to say. He searched for Lois's dark hair in the room, but didn't see anyone that matched her image. He wondered how she could've disappeared so fast. It only added to the list of mysterious things that she did.

"Here, why don't I take you to Mr. White's room. If she's anywhere, it'd be there," said Jimmy, walking towards a white door in the back of the room.

"Thanks, Jimmy," said Clark in sincerity.

"No problem, Mr. Kent!" he smiled, "Mr. White's right in there." He pointed through the door.

Nodding, Clark turned the rusted handle slowly, and peered through the tiniest crack he could manage. Lois was in there, all right, arguing with a balding man as he scribbled notes onto a pad.

"All that I'm saying is that it could be a really great story, Chief!" Lois cried, grasping her hands in the air, "The school deserves to know the truth about what kind of people are running our education!"

"Lane, I've told you once, and I've told you twice. If we want to get technical, I've probably told you fifty-seven times," the man said, "Kids don't like to read stories about education. And, it would be out a line as a teacher to permit you to write about one of our staff's personal life."

Lois began to cry, "But Chief!" just as Clark cleared his throat, opening the door wider so he could step in. For a moment, Lois looked infuriated at him, her face a bright red, but then she calmed down, and said in a tired voice, "Chief, this is Clark Kent. He's here to talk about the open position."

"Yes, yes," the man said, standing up from his desk, hands behind his back. The Chief came right up to Clark's face, staring at him with wrinkled eyes. "Ever done any writing, boy?"

"Well, sir," Clark stammered, shying away from the man, "E-everyone's done a bit of writing."

"Fair enough," he said, walking back to his desk, "If this were a real paper, I would ask to read something that you're written, but since this is just school, and we're limited on sane people, I'll spare you the embarrassment."

"And?" Lois said with impatience.

Mr. White plopped into his black, leather chair. "Clark, you're in. You start tomorrow after school."

A rush of relief filled Clark, even though he hadn't known he was nervous at all. Smiling, he said, "Thank you, Chief, uh, Mr. White."

"Chief will do," he said offhandedly. "Now, you two go and do something useful."

With one bitter glance, Lois left the room, slamming the door shut in front of Clark. He opened and tiptoed out of Mr. White's office, running to catch up with Lois' breakneck pace.

"I can't believe it!" she cried.

"I know," said Clark as he walked next to her into the main part of Office, "I can't believe Chief gave me the job, either."

Lois glanced up at him with a dazed glance, "Oh, I wasn't even thinking about that. Congratulations." There wasn't any real enthusiasm in her voice.

"What were you thinking about, Lois?" he asked.

Grabbing a plastic cup from the stack, she lifted the tab and filled it with water from the jug. "It's nothing. Chief just won't let me do this story because he thinks it would be to 'inappropriate.' What's wrong with giving people the truth?" she said to really no one at all.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

His comment caught her off-guard, and Lois stared at him with her curious, brown eyes. She blushed roses again, and looked down into her cup. "Well, thanks Clark. And I really am glad you're on the paper. You'll do fantastic."

"I hope so. I'm really looking forward to it," he said, not referring to the writing part.

Lois tossed her cup into the trash bin next to the wall. "Well, I'd better get busy. Chief will kill me if I don't get started on some editorial about the cole slaw in the cafeteria," she rolled her eyes, "Says that thirty-five kids have gotten food poisoning after eating it."

"I believe it," Clark said quite seriously, "I was feeling queasy after lunch, and _I _didn't even eat it."

Laughing, Lois sat down at one of the computers, booting it up with the press of a button. "I'll see you tomorrow, Clark."

"Goodbye, Lois," he said, though she was already lost in her writing.

Clark left the Office, and ambled down the now-empty hallway, whistling to himself. Maybe Fate wasn't so cruel, after all.

**Author's Note: This is what happens after you watch four of the Superman movies and start researching about the history of the 'man of steel.' Any comments and critiques are very welcome, as I'm sure I made plenty of mistakes. I really enjoyed writing this, though, so I hope whoever reads it enjoys, too. **

**Disclaimer: Superman belongs solely to DC Comics, no matter how much I wish he were mine. **


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is a little late, and I apologize! Life has been rather hectic and not given much time to do the things I want to, like writing. But it finally got written, so I'll stop rambling now and just get to the story. **

**Disclaimer: Superman=DC Comics**

Fate

Chapter Two

_tap, tap, tap, tap._

"Chief!"

_ping. _

The Office was a hectic place, as per usual. All the students that wrote for the high school newspaper came straight after last period and began the chaotic process that was writing. After a few months of endlessly running into people and deafening yells, Clark decided that he liked writing on the newspaper.

"Kent," Mr. White said as Clark shut the Office door behind him, "Lawrence went home sick. Can you cover his column?"

Clark dropped his bag under the long table of computers that cut the room in half. "Sure, Chief," he said, even though he hated covering for Lawrence Fink, who had the "Ask Bill" column and answered all the silly questions that students asked. No wonder he was always going home sick.

Under his fingers, the computer thrummed with life until its screen glowed electric blue. The tiny little bar that said it was loading popped up, running across over and over again without showing any sign of progress. Waiting for the computer to wake up was annoying, but it wasn't like any other one was better. It was a lucky day if it took less than five minutes to reboot.

"You know, " a voice said behind him, "You wouldn't have to wait if you used a typewriter."

A huge smile played on Clark's lips. He recognized the voice without even turning. "You know, Lois, there is great value in using a computer."

Lois plopped into the seat across from him, leaning on her elbows with a disparaging look that said she didn't agree with him. In the two months since he had moved to Metropolis, if there was anything about Lois that he had learned, it was that Lois was a purely old-fashioned girl, from her tastes in music to the way she dressed. "Oh, Clark. Clark, Clark, Clark. Come and tell me that again if your computer ever crashes."

"Will do."

She stood and walked away to her typewriter, jumping into whatever articles it was that Chief was having her on. Lois was easily the best reporter in the school. Fearless, inquisitive, persuasive, if it had to do with anything controversial, Lois wrote it. She dared to go where no one else in all of Metropolis High would, all at the tender age of seventeen.

_Stop it, Kent. _Even though as he thought it, Clark's thoughts were consumed by that of Lois Lane. It seemed with everything he learned about her, a hundred other mysteries popped up. The girl frustrated him, while he was sure Lois hardly gave a second thought about him. She didn't have time to think about _eating, _let alone a guy like Clark. He often wondered if he were going crazy.

"Hey, man, you alright?"

The boy sitting next to Clark—an Indian kid named Farid—was looking at him with a vague concern. Clark examined himself and saw he was clenching his right fist, so hard that the veins in his wrist were popping out. Uncurling it, he noticed four, perfect crescents where the nails had been, beads of blood rising to fill the punctures.

"Yeah," he said, shoving his mauled hand under the table. "I'm fine."

Farid turned back to his computer and muttered, "Whatever."

Brushing his fingers across the keys, Clark tried to focus his mind on the advice column he had to finish. The sheet of paper was filled with dozens of questions to Bill, all hoping for some sort of solution. Clark read the first one from a student under the alias _Mooning for Melanie, _which pretty much explained everything about his problem. He almost laughed as he read it, but found that he recognized himself in _Mooning's _dilemma. This hardly comforted Clark, but at least he wasn't the only poor schmuck out there when it came to girls.

It was nearly four-thirty when Chief came in to release everyone. Clark was relieved to have been spared the torture of reading another desperate question and began to gather his things in a hurried fashion. He wanted to be able to catch Lois on her way out.

Jimmy slid up to his side as he was walking into the hallway.

"How's it going, Mr. Kent?" Jimmy smiled.

"S'fine," Clark said, peaking over Jimmy's short head for a sight of Lois. "Why do you always call me 'Mr. Kent?'"

Always eager to talk, Jimmy jumped right into a lengthy explanation: "Oh, well, my grandmother was a real stickler for manners. She was from the south, you see, and was a big believer in the whole southern gentleman thing. I'd stay the summer with her, and she made me call everyone 'ma'am' and 'sir', even if they were a little kid. I guess it stuck with me. Do you want me to just call you Clark?"

"No, I like Mr. Kent," Clark said, "It's much more distinguishing."

Jimmy smiled again. "Good, because I still would have called you Mr. Kent anyway."

The boy went on about another story of his grandmother, though Clark really wasn't paying much attention, as he was waiting for the moment Lois would appear. He got his wish as her elfish figure slipped through the Office, padding down the hall without a second glance. Clark abandoned Jimmy and ran to her side.

"Hey!" Jimmy cried, "Am I the only one who understands what a regular conversation is?"

Lois turned around at Jimmy's complaint, and looked at Clark with her curious brown eyes. "Hi, Clark," she said.

"Hi, Lois," said Clark, grinning quite stupidly.

"Hi, Jimmy," Jimmy called.

Lois glanced at him and smiled. "Sorry about that, Jimmy! I'll give him back later."

Jimmy waved a hand and straightened his bowtie of the day, walking out of the school with dignity.

The day was a humid one, the kind where the air seemed to choke you with heat, no matter where you stood. Drops of sticky sweat instantly formed on the back of Clark's neck as he walked down the steps of school and out into the block, Lois by his side.

"I think Jimmy's mad at us," she said, a wicked grin on her face, "You especially."

"Why both of us?" Clark asked.

"Me, because I was what drew you away in the first place. You, because you were the one who abandoned him in the middle of a conversation. What were you talking about, anyway?"

"Some story about how his grandmother won the lottery and then lost it to her neighbor in a game of poker," he said.

"Ah," Lois laughed, "Then I can see why you left."

Clark wanted to say that wasn't the reason he came to see her, but he didn't.

They walked down the street, the city sounds of cars and afternoon traffic playing in their ears. The presence of Lois beside him seemed to intoxicate Clark, sending his heart thumping in his chest so hard he was afraid she'd hear it, which only made him more nervous. He wished he didn't get so nervous around her, but he could hardly do anything to help it. He was as bad as _Mooning for Melanie. _

"So," said Lois as they turned on June Street, "was there any particular reason you came to me for refuge, or was I just the first person you saw?"

Clark contemplated it for a second. "No particular reason," he said, "but I always like talking to you."

She smiled, a complicated smile that said a thousand things he couldn't read. "You're too sweet, Clark."

At that moment, Clark felt so close to Lois physically, but Lois the girl inside was as distant as she ever was. He didn't know how to reach her, as if the more he tried the farther she got.

"Like a friend-sweet, or …" Clark faltered.

"Or what?" Lois looked up at him, a faint amusement in her eyes.

Clark tried to get the nerve to say it, but before he could a boy stepped in front of them, blocking the way of walking any further.

He had never seen him before, Clark was certain, though something about him seemed familiar. The boy was quite tall and muscular—much more so than Clark, he noticed—and probably would've been handsome, but the complete hairless state of his head detracted from his looks. There was a fiery look in his eyes that seemed to burn out everything around him, and Clark realized why he felt so familiar. He had seen that fire before. And it was staring straight at Lois.

For the first time, Clark saw anxiety in the depths of Lois' eyes, as if the boy frightened her. Her face had turned a stark white, contrasting violently with her inky locks, and Clark thought he saw her start to shake. In that second, Lois looked almost _normal. _But then she bit her lip, pushed her chest out, and glared at the boy with the full intensity of her being.

"What do you want, Lex?"

"Oh, come on, Lois," the boy Lex said, his lips curling, "You're making me feel like some kind of criminal."

"Good," she said, "Maybe then you'd leave me alone."

"Don't be like that. All I want is to talk to you," he said, resting his hands on her thin shoulders.

Lois flinched at his touch, pointedly shrugging his embrace away. "Then talk, Lex. I have places to be."

Lex's burning eyes flickered briefly at Clark, who turned them down at the moldy asphalt. He wondered how Lois had gotten to know a guy like this, and what he wanted to do with her in the first place.

"I want you back," Lex said simply, placing his hands at his side.

Lois rolled her eyes. "Funny," she said, "I didn't know you could regain something you never had."

Creases formed on Lex's bald-head. "Making up little stories again, babe? Trying to impress geeko over here?"

"Leave Clark out of this," Lois muttered.

"You're right," Lex said slowly, "This is between you and me."

Arms crossed in front of her chest, she told him, "There _was_ no 'you and me', Lex."

Bending close to her ear, Lex whispered, "That, I believe, is a lie."

With a disgusted snort, Lois pushed Lex away from her, grabbed Clark's hand, and tried to walk away. But Lex wouldn't let her, as he clutched her shoulder and pushed her to the ground. Clark heard the sound of her head collide with it.

A rush of irrational adrenaline possessed Clark; making him do things he would've never even considered doing to a guy like Lex. Somehow, he found himself pinning the guy up against the chain-link fence, holding him with a strength that he had never felt before.

"I think you should leave her alone, now," Clark said in a controlled voice.

Lex gave a bitter laugh, despite the strained expression in his face. "Oh, and you're going to make me?"

"If I have to."

The fire in his eyes faltered, but he shoved out of Clark's hold, turning away from him and Lois, who was trying to sit up. "Just know you've crossed with the wrong guy, _Clark. _There are worse things than physical pain."

Clark didn't look away until Lex had disappeared around the corner of the sidewalk. Immediately, the adrenaline seemed to drain from him, leaving Clark jelly-legged and tired. The sight of the bloody bump on Lois' head stemmed his weariness, though.

"What was that, Clark?" Lois cried, her eyes as wide as the egg-shaped knot that had formed above her right ear.

"You're bleeding," he said, deflecting her question.

She waved her hand, a sign that Lois was feeling herself again. "Non-consequential. I want to know what happened to _you._"

"I don't know," he murmured as he tried to get a better look at her infirmity, "but I think you need some help. That's a pretty bad gash."

"Oh, so now you're a doctor?" Lois quipped. "It's fine, honestly—"

Clark probed it a bit, barely touching it. Lois flinched.

"Ow."

Clark chuckled. "I though so."

"So you were right. Hurrah. Can we fix it now?"

"Where do you live?" Clark asked.

Looking out, Lois said, "On the other side of town. I usually take the bus."

"I'll take you to my house. It's just down the street."

"How did you say you hurt yourself, again?" Martha Kent asked as she wrapped a gauzy bandage around Lois' swollen bump.

They were in Clark's home, after walking ten minutes to the address (it'd been a bit farther than Clark recalled). His mother was tending to Lois as they sat in the cramped walls of the kitchen. He was still getting used to the new contours of the apartment, which was much smaller than the old farmhouse they used to live in.

"Tripped on my shoelace," Lois said, spinning a lie like it was nothing. She gave Clark a look that told him not to contradict it. "I can never remember to tie them."

Martha Kent lifted herself from the table chair, collecting her supply of medical equipment. She was an elegant lady, even in her old age. Her summer dress clung to her waist, and her silvery hair was pulled primly into a clean bun at the nape of her neck. "You should be more careful, dear," she told Lois with a smile that felt like sunshine, "It's a lucky thing you didn't hurt yourself worse than you did."

"Yes, Mrs. Kent. I'll be sure to," said Lois, wrapping her thin fingers around a cup of tea.

Clark's mother patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, call me, Martha."

"Martha," Lois smiled, the most genuine smile Clark had ever seen.

"Do you want me to call your parents to pick you up, Lois?" Martha called as she walked through the kitchen.

"Yes, please."

Martha left the room, leaving it empty except for Lois and Clark and the faint ticking of the round clock on the wall. The air held a fragile silence, one that neither of them knew how to break. Clark stared at the wood grain of the table in the quiet.

"You're probably wondering how I got mixed up with a guy like Lex Luthor, aren't you?" Lois said, not staring at him.

"It might've crossed my mind a few times," Clark said.

Lois gave him that peculiar look of hers, like every thing he said to her was a riddle she had to solve, but sighed and let her shoulders collapse on her. "It's kind of a long story, so you may as well settle in."

"Everyone always say their stories are long," he said.

"Well, either we're all liars, or else maybe life is just meant to be worth taking the time to tell."

He waited, looking softly at her while Lois found the trust to tell him whatever story it was she had to tell. Watching her, it never failed to remind him how out of his league she was.

"Lex and I have known each other since we were kids," she said, tracing the patterns in the wood, "It was the whole 'friend of the family' deal where our parents would throw us together as a way to occupy our energy. He was nice enough as a kid, but we were never close friends."

"Nice?" Clark didn't think he could describe Lex as such.

"People can change, Clark," Lois whispered softly, like winter snow, "and Lex did."

Sipping her tea, Lois went on: "It wasn't till last year that this whole mess started. We had a class together and were put in as lab partners. I hadn't talked to Lex in years, so I tried to be friendly, since our families knew each other. When the semester ended, Lex had gotten it into his head that he was in love with me. That we made the perfect team."

Clark sputtered. "You and Lex? Is he crazy?"

Lois looked at him like she wondered the same thing. "One thing you have to know is: Lex is a smart guy, one of the smartest I know. He feels with his brain, not his heart. The reason he deluded himself into thinking he loved me was because he thought that my mind completed his in an aesthetic sense of logic."

"So he _is_ crazy."

Lois rolled her eyes, annoyed. "In a brilliant sort of way, yes."

"What did he do when you said you didn't love him?" Clark asked.

"How do you know I told him I didn't love him?" Lois questioned.

For a moment, Clark felt is though his heart had stopped. "You aren't serious."

With a coy smile, Lois said, "No. I just wanted to see your reaction."

"Ha-ha. I'm bursting with laughter."

"Oh, don't be so sarcastic."

"I thought you were the one who told me that the whole world was sarcastic," Clark said.

"Shut up, and let me finish my story," Lois retorted, staring at her teacup.

Clark relented, ecstatic that he had finally beat Lois in a game of wits.

A serious expression returned to Lois' face, and she said, "So after I told him I wasn't interested, Lex went into a sort of frenzy. I almost thought he was playing a joke on me, he was so angry. He couldn't seem to control himself at all. He grabbed me," Lois rubbed her arms, remembering the feel of his grasp, "I had bruises of his fingerprints on my arms for weeks."

The implications of Lois' words set into Clark. He didn't think he'd ever been so mad before. "And you didn't tell anyone? You just let him hurt you like that?" Clark could barely keep his voice steady.

"What was I supposed to do?" Lois asked, a desperate tone marring her soft voice. "Lex is one of the most respected kids in school. No one would've believed me."

Looking at her, Clark saw diamond tears trickling down the planes of Lois' pale face. She looked so sad, so vulnerable; all the mysteries inside of her seemed to disappear, bringing her down to everybody else's level. For the first time, Clark thought of Lois as just a regular girl instead of an unattainable, ethereal being.

Stretching his hand across the flat surface of the table, Clark touched her hand. It was freezing, even though it was hot outside. At first, Lois looked like she wanted to take it away, but she left it there, letting Clark warm it.

"I would've."

She looked up, her brown eyes penetrating the dark curtain of hair. "What?"

"I would've believed you," Clark said.

Lois didn't say anything, but simply looked at their hands, clasped together on the center of the table. The roses of her blush appeared, and she smiled a small smile, one that barely even showed her dimples. "Thanks, Clark," she looked up at him, "I'm really glad you moved from … wherever you moved from."

"It's called Smallville," he chuckled.

Lois grinned. "Smallville."

The world seemed theirs for that moment, until Martha Kent walked in, the telephone in her hand. Clark and Lois instantly detangled their hands.

"Your parents will be here in a few minutes, Lois," she said. She did not seem to notice the bewildered expressions on both her son and the girl he adored.

"Thank you, Martha. That'll be great."


	3. Chapter 3

**I realize how incredibly long it has been since I've added to this story (or any story for the matter). It partly was because my life is busy and partly because this was simply a very hard chapter to write. Hopefully it was worth the wait. **

**Disclaimer: Clark nor Lois nor Jimmy, etc. are mine. The end. **

Fate

Chapter Three

The funny thing about revelations is that things nearly always stay the same afterwards.

Clark was sure that that afternoon with Lois was going to change things between them, even if he didn't exactly know what those things were. The next day at school, he waited for some kind of sign of it, but Lois merely went on as usual. The only things that changed was perhaps Lois talked to him even less. Every time Clark found her alone, Lois would quickly come us with an excuse to busy herself or leave. Her eyes, which were normally so warm and alive, were a dull brown.

"Is something going on with you and Lois?" Jimmy said to Clark as they walked out from school. They had been paired as partners in a science project, and Clark's home was the closer of the two. "I swear, she hasn't said a word to you all week."

"Is it that obvious?" said Clark, his chest heavy as if it had been injected with lead.

Jimmy looked down at the sidewalk, his hands low in his ironed pockets. "Well, I hardly claim myself to be an observant man, but I think it's pretty evident that Lois is trying to avoid you."

Clark said nothing, but simply let his misery soak into his skin.

"So, what happened?"

For a moment, Clark did not know what to say. He didn't want to reveal Lois' secret; he didn't feel like it was his secret to reveal. Yet, it seemed like the only reasonable explanation of why she was trying so hard to evade him. What happened with Lex shook Lois into an unrecognizable state, and the only conclusion Clark could come up with was that seeing her reminded her of Lex.

"I don't think anything happened. I'm as completely baffled as you are." It was semi-true, at least.

Neither of them spoke, too busy letting the mystery consume their puzzled minds. Lois was like that, Clark thought, and ever-mystery. He wondered if he would ever be able to solve her.

"Still," Jimmy mused after a moment, "I don't think Lois should treat you so unfairly. It's not like her."

"What is Lois like?" he whispered under his breath.

His friend heard him anyway. "The world may never know, Mr. Kent. The world may never know."

A month passed as so, Lois still as distant and quiet. She reminded Clark of the Greek nymphs he had learned of in History, the kind that would turn into trees and rivers to escape overlooking mortals. Was that what she thought of Clark as: an intruding viewer in her life? The idea was enough to make him insane.

On the first day of December, it began to snow. Fat, white flurries that landed everywhere and made Metropolis look like a big wet mess. It was the first time Clark had ever seen snow, and after he had seen it, he decided he did not need to see it again. Snow was lovely, but so were flowers and sunshine. For the first time since he moved to the city, Clark missed his old home of Smallville.

Clark stayed on the paper, despite the void between Lois and him. Chief had told him on his very first day that they were short of sane people, and it turned out to be quite true. And if Clark was being honest with himself, he couldn't quite separate himself completely from her.

He came in one day to hear Chief talking from one of his wide-variety of lectures, most of them referring to how they were all lazy no-accounts. Chief liked to think that his speeches made an impact on the students, but no one ever really listened to him. Clark say down at his usual seat, taking particular care not to let his eyes slip towards Lois' desk, as they had a habit of doing.

"Reporting requires effort, strength! Do you think that all those people on television got there by just sitting in a chair all day, playing with their gum? No! They had to work for it, and they were rewarded."

Chief's face was quite red by this point, as it always did when he worked himself up. Clark thought he vaguely resembled a chili pepper with his long, thin head. Not thinking, he turned to the right to tell Lois, to find a way to make her laugh. But then he stopped. Lois didn't want to hear his corny jokes anymore. She didn't want him to make her laugh.

No one had noticed Clark, which was a relief. Chief continued to drone on. "Hard work is the only way to make it anywhere in this world, and that is why I'm giving the Winter Festival assignment to the two students who deserve it: Lois and Clark."

"What?"

All heads instantly turned to the direction of the voice, though Clark did not have to look. Lois had barely walked through the door when Chief gave his announcement, her hand still gripped onto the rusted knob. In his attempt to forget her, Clark had not even noticed she was not here. Lois stared at Chief with such intensity; it was a wonder fire did not burst from it. It was the most Lois-like look Clark had seen in weeks.

Storming to where Chief stood, she cried, "You can't be serious. You promised _I _would have that position, Chief!"

Though Lois glare was pure heat, Chief did not seemed to be fazed in the least. "I promised you would have a position," he said pointedly, "not that you were the only one to receive one."

"This is ridiculous. I-"

Suddenly, Chief's eyes turned cold and hard like the winter ice outside. "That is enough, Miss Lane. Now if you would so deign to oblige me, I'd like to speak with you and Kent in my office. Now."

The entire office was silent, for once not a single person saying a word. Lois was Chief's pride and joy, and to see him so furious at her was bewildering. Clark rose from his chair to follow Mr. White and Lois into the tiny office down the hall, quite aware of the gazes that were on his back. Lois did not look at him once as they walked.

The door shut with a sharp _click _that enunciated the terrible quiet in the room. Clark felt very insignificant at that moment. Chief and Lois scowled at each other hard, like a secret game to see who could out-do the other. And no matter how he tried to ignore it, Clark was intensely aware of Lois. He noticed her hands clawing into the desk, the wispy curl of her ebony hair, the faint splash of freckles across her nose.

The contest seemed to last for minutes, though it could not have been more than a few seconds before Chief collapsed into his chair, exhausted, as if frowning at Lois had taken all his energy. Clark thought he say worry lines across his forehead that had not been there a moment ago. Sighing, Chief massaged the balding spot on his head and closed his eyes against them both.

"Lane, you're a great kid," he said, lifting his wrinkled eyes to her, "Heck, you're better than most reporters twice your age. But the one thing you need to learn is respect. I gave you and Clark that assignment because I wanted you to do it together, and I hope that I won't have to find a replacement for you."

The glare on Lois' face faded, leaving the cynical mask she used when she did not want anyone to see her emotions. Slow and careful, she let out the breath she'd been holding in. The blood-red roses on her cheeks drained back to her normal color.

"It won't be necessary, sir," Lois said, "I'll be a good girl."

Chief ignored her sarcasm. "You two promise to work with each other?"

"Yeah. Sure thing, Chief," she said as she backed towards the door.

Mr. White raised an eyebrow to Clark.

"Of course," he mumbled.

"Great!" the old man said with forced enthusiasm, "I look forward to what you bring me."

Both the boy and girl left without another word. Lois immediately began to stalk to her desk, almost running, like Clark was a disease that she could not get away from fast enough. It was too much for him to bare. Clark could not go on without knowing why she was avoiding him.

Clark ran and grabbed her arm, turning her body to face him. "Lois, can I talk to you? _Please?_"

"Not now, Kent," she said, shrugging out of his grasp, "I'm busy getting ready for the stupid Winter Festival assignment."

At this point, most of the students in the Office were watching their conversation. A fleeting thought imagined the rumors that would be spread throughout school the next day, but Clark did not care at all. He made Lois face him again.

"We have to talk," he whispered.

Lois' expression was so unreadable, Clark was sure that she would try to deny him again. It took a few moments for her to speak. Then, to his surprise, she said, "Alright."

She twisted around Clark towards the Office door, walking out into an empty hall. When she came to a spot away from the room of eavesdroppers, she spun around with her arms crossed, looking at Clark with the same face as she did when he first saw her.

"Alright," she said again, "Let's talk."

Her abruptness made Clark fumble for words. "I ... I wanted to know why ..."

"Why what?"

Lois had always been sarcastic, condoning, even harsh, but Clark had never imagined she could be so venomous. The strangest part was that, instead of being hurt, her acid only made him angry.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Though he had been thinking it for months, Clark did not realize how pathetic the question sounded until he said it out loud. He did not realize how obvious it made the fact that Clark was obsessed with Lois.

She rolled her eyes, her great big brown ones, so fluidly she made it seem graceful instead of mocking. "I'm not avoiding you, Clark."

"Oh, really. That must be the biggest lie you've ever told."

"What do you want me to say," she asked, her lips thinner than paper.

"I'm not sure," Clark retorted, "Maybe _I'm sorry _or some other kind of excuse. Anything like that should be fine."

Lois narrowed her gaze. "I didn't expect you to be such the cynical type."

"I learned from the best."

Glares.

"So," Clark said, "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Why should I? What do I owe you?" Her voice was hard and sharp and precise.

It cut Clark to the core. "I just thought ..."

"Oh," Lois cried, as she jammed her finger into Clark's chest, "You know what your problem is, Kent? Everything is this huge fantasy to you. You keep expecting that the good guys will always win and that love conquers all. But _it's not, _Clark, _it's not._"

The words stung, as if Lois had shot arrows of acid through his body. Part of him realized it was true, that Lois had seen through him just like she saw through everything else, but the pride in him wanted to deny it. To say something poisonous back.

"Yeah, well, maybe I like believing in love, and that things will work out for the best. I'm sorry my optimism bothers you." The reply sounded lame in his ears, but Clark tried his best to sound cool. His facade did not fool her, though.

"Is that really the best you have?" she spat. "I know you're angry. Why don't you say something that will really hurt me? Why don't you fight back?" Her face was close as she said all this. Clark could feel her hot breath mingle with his, could see the fire behind her dark and perceptive eyes. He stared straight at them. Suddenly, he did not feel angry anymore.

"Because I don't want to hurt you, Lois. I don't want to hurt you at all. I just want to know why you seem so set on pretending I don't exist ever since that day with Lex."

This was not what Lois had expected his to say, Clark could tell, because the hard mask on her face faltered, revealing all the things she hid behind it: pain, guilt, shock. The expression made her look human, which Clark thought only made her that much more beautiful. Translucent tears flickered in her eyes.

Lois slid down to the floor and leaned against the concrete wall. Cautiously, Clark sat next to her, taking care that she and him did not touch. For minutes, she simply stared into the hall. They could hear the heavy chatter from the Office.

"That day with Lex ..." she whispered, still not looking at Clark, "I sometimes wished it didn't happen, but then at others I'm glad it did. But mostly I wish Lex would simply leave me _alone." _

"You could have told me. I can help you, Lois, I can-"

Two, slender fingers fell on his mouth. They felt like feathers. "No, you can't. You don't know what Lex is really like. He would tear you apart, and if that happened ..."

"What?" he asked.

One of the tears spilled over and ran down the plane of her face. Lois brushed at it, staring at the droplet as if she had never seen one before. "The fact of the matter is that you can't beat Lex, and neither can I."

"What he did to you, though," Clark took a breath to steady himself, "it's not right. It's not right at all. Do you really want to live with that in your mind all the time?"

She looked at him. Lois was eyes and tears and secrets that she hid, secrets she did not want to keep or tell. In that silence, Clark realized that Lois would never be his, not fully. There was too much inside of her for his arms ever to hold. The knowledge punched a hole in his chest that hurt different from any physical pain he had ever known.

Lois must have noticed the pain on his face, because she said, "I'm sorry for the things I told you. I wasn't really talking about you, only myself. I'm the one who is living in a fantasy, and I'm the one who keeps waiting for the good guys to come. They don't, though. I keep looking, but they don't come."

"Maybe you're just looking too hard. Maybe they're right in front of your face and you just can't see them." The words came out before Clark could even think.

"Do you really believe that?" Lois said, her voice pleading.

"Yeah."

"I wish I could too."

If Clark were brave, he would've said, _Let me help you to, _he own hero from a story. But Clark was not brave, and he was not a hero, and he didn't say anything at all. He just stared at her while she stared at him until it seemed like they had never done anything besides look at each other. Brown eyes met blue eyes and brown and blue and ...

"Uh, am I interrupting something?"

The spell between them broke and suddenly Jimmy was in the hall, too, a very confused expression on his face. Work must have ended, though Clark did not hear any of the normal footsteps and chatter. He felt a flush of heat as he imagined the awkward pose he and Lois much have just been in.

"Nope," Lois said quickly, already recovered. She wiped the stray tears away. "You weren't interrupting anything." Clark was glad not to have to answer his question.

Jimmy gave a strained thumbs-up. "Just checking."

Lois stood and brushed off her now-wrinkled shirt. "Bye, Jimmy," she began to walk away, then, "Bye, Clark."

With Lois gone, there was no one else to speak up in the discomforting silence. Jimmy gave a hand to help lift Clark from the ground; he asked how he was and Clark told him he was fine, just fine. He knew that Jimmy must be burning inside with questions of what just happened, but was too good a friend to dare. Clark was grateful, because at that moment he didn't think he could handle any answers.

"Lois is a strange girl," Jimmy sighed.

Clark said nothing.

"I don't know what attracts her to you."


End file.
